


Most Likely To...

by heonniebread



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Romance, fast paced narrative, teenagers to adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heonniebread/pseuds/heonniebread
Summary: Youngjae reunites with his first love, ten years later.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Mark Tuan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	Most Likely To...

**Author's Note:**

> high school in the u.s is separated into years: freshman (9th grade) sophomore (10th) junior (11th) and senior (12th) then it starts all over in college if u continue on but tbh the 4 year college degree plan is a lie

**Sophomore Year**

Mark Tuan: a senior in AP Bio, needs a little help in World History, though.

Mark Tuan: one of the fastest boys on the Cross Country team, helping lead their school’s name through the ranks. The finals are next weekend. He and his best friend, Jackson Wang, wear their jerseys religiously. They don’t get letterman jackets like the football team, but the red and white tanks are made of mesh material and are, for some reason, allowed to be worn in the halls.

Mark Tuan: heard the complaints about the unfairness between the lax attitude towards the boy’s Cross Country tanks versus the girl’s strict dress code, and wore his tank tucked into an above-the-knees pleated skirt as protest. The rest of the team followed suit. The soccer players followed suit. The hallways crawled with teenage boys in skirts until the principal of the school made a promise to amend the dress code.

Mark Tuan: has his locker three down from Youngjae’s.

Mark Tuan: wears a short pleated skirt every day for a week and sashays his hips when a classmate playfully catcalls.

It’s Friday, and Youngjae’s about to lose his damn mind.

“Y’know...”

Youngjae jumps out of his skin, swears he’ll find a grey hair by morning.

“I’m not even into it,” Jaebeom peers around Youngjae’s locker door, raising an eyebrow at how Youngjae tries to wedge himself into the locker, “But Mark’s kinda pretty. And has great legs.” Then, offhandedly, “Maybe I should’ve done sports.”

Youngjae swats at Jaebeom, shushing him.

“There are _no_ other Koreans in this goddamn school.” Jaebeom frowns, swatting at the hands in his face. “No one understands me, your super obvious gay as fuck crush on Lifeguard is safe.”

Lifeguard is Mark’s nickname; he lifeguards at the beach during the summer and Youngjae had his Gay Awakening last summer at fourteen years old, during a family-fun summer outing to the shores with his grandmother visiting from South Korea, when Mark Tuan called his name from the lifeguard chair and Youngjae turned around and nearly had a heat stroke at the sight of tanned and pretty Mark Tuan basking shirtless in the sun, all lean and pretty. As the years go on, Mark only seems to get prettier. His braces come off after Christmas. He will be unstoppable.

“What is it, anyway?” Jaebeom thankfully continues on in Korean, leaning against the lockers as Youngjae fights a blush, “That makes you look at a dude and go, _I want that_?”

“I dunno.” Youngjae slams his locker and gives his brother a harsh glare. “The dude part.”

Jaebeom grins extra wide and slings an arm around Youngjae’s shoulders, giving him a fond squeeze. “The _dude_ part, hm? Which part is that?”

“I hate you. Shut up.” Youngjae doesn’t mean it, shoves Jaebeom halfheartedly. Jaebeom reaches out with both hands, making a mess of Youngjae’s neatly styled hair.

For all the trouble he gives Youngjae; the noogies, and hiding the T.V remote from him, and absolutely massacring him in video games, and going into his room to fart, or steal his markers, or for all the times he’s finished the milk and made Youngjae run to the corner store to buy more, in the rain, or the times he’s taken Youngjae’s cell phone charger from his room, or the time he left porn playing on the T.V and blamed it on Youngjae—

Jaebeom wrings Youngjae by his neck. “I’m super proud of you, my gay lil’ bro.” He says it softly, even though their passing classmates don’t understand Korean, anyway. Youngjae appreciates his older brother more than God knows how. He’s never said it, never said the words _I’m gay_ out loud. He’s still young. Still figuring a lot out. Still hiding a lot from his parents.

But this he doesn’t have to hide from Jaebeom.

* * *

Youngjae stops in his fucking tracks. Stops breathing. Stops thinking. Forgets he came to the kitchen to get some pizza rolls.

There’s Mark Tuan, the most beautiful senior to ever exist, sitting on the counter in his kitchen.

And there’s Jaebeom Im, smirking at Youngjae from behind a pint of ice cream. “Mark and I are studying for our Algebra test.”

Right. Jaebeom and Mark have some classes together. They’re in the same grade, and have been since _kindergarten_. They’ve known each other for practically their whole lives. It only makes sense that they would eventually hang out. If Youngjae’s memory serves him correctly, Mark and Jaebeom have hung out a few times previously. It’s just now, that Youngjae’s hormones run out of whack and he develops a crush, that Jaebeom decide to torture him.

“What’s up, Jae?!” Mark salutes from across the kitchen. Youngjae’s hyper aware of the pimple centered on his forehead. It might be growing, red and ugly for tan and smooth skinned Mark Tuan to feast his beautiful eyes on and remind him that Youngjae’s just a gangly teen stumbling through puberty. It’s not being nice to him. His skin is so oily he could fry foods on his T-zone.

“The sky’s up.” Youngjae croaks— _of course_ his voice would give out this second— and he cowers, retreating up to his room, dramatically locking the door behind him, forgetting the pizza rolls.

* * *

Mark comes over more and more, and honestly, developing a friendship with Jaebeom that sends Youngjae into an ugly spiral of jealousy. They don’t see each other much, since he mostly stops by to study with Jaebeom and Youngjae’s (nervous, shy, a panicked gay,) trying to give them space. Or Mark stops by just to pick Jaebeom up in his (dad’s) convertible BMW. Youngjae peeks out at the driveway from his bedroom window, starting listlessly at the super cool group of senior boys doing super cool senior boy things.

One chilly Saturday Youngjae’s outside helping his dad cut the grass, and Mark gets out of the car, all smiles, dripping expensive in his Gucci slides and Balenciaga cap. It’s backwards, and for some reason the fuckboy vibes makes Youngjae’s stomach go cold.

“You should come with us one day.” Mark says. Youngjae blinks at him. “We’re going to the city, get some fries and ice cream.”

Youngjae shoots a look over his shoulder at his dad, who frowns at him, too concerned with the broken mower to care about his son’s pleading gaze. He waves him off. Youngjae whips back around to face Mark, feeling as breathless as he looks.

“I gotta shower.” He’s not going anywhere smelling like teenage B.O and dirt.

Youngjae showers in scalding hot water and scrubs so hard at his skin until he swears it’s about to start peeling. He lets his bangs hang in his face and douses himself in Jaebeom’s cologne. Jaebeom nearly suffocates him with a pillow in revenge, and makes a point of bringing Mark into Youngjae’s room when he’s trying to figure out an outfit.

Mark picks out a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt for Youngjae, nondescript, pretty chill and casual, but when he’s handing over the blue shirt he says, “Blue’s a good color on you.” and Jaebeom has to excuse himself to honk his ugly laugh out in the hallway because Youngjae stalls out and goes, “Well that’s my favorite color.”

It’s not his favorite color.

“What’s up with him?” Mark asks about Jaebeom, not even blinking as Youngjae slides his shirt over his head.

“It’s… I don’t know!”

As they’re climbing into the car, Jaebeom slides into the back and looks smug as shit when Youngjae climbs into the passenger’s seat. “You should’ve seen your face.” He teases in Korean.

Youngjae hopes Jaebeom gets hit in the face with bugs, as they whip down the highway to Jackson’s house.

* * *

“You’re gonna do it?”

“I’m gonna do it!”

Jaebeom blinks. Looks torn between wanting to be a good older brother and stop his younger brother from making rash decisions, or be a typical older brother and watch his younger brother jump off a metaphorical bridge. “You’re gonna do it…”

Youngjae grips his love letter. It’s to Mark.

Spring Homecoming is in a month, and the glittery banners hanging all over the hallways at school, and the flyers jam-packed into his backpack, are all little signs of hope. Someone painted a big ass rainbow over the words V _ote for Homecoming Royalty_ and the gender neutral-ness of it is so casually sweet and supportive that Youngjae _can’t_ not do it.

“How are you gonna tell mom and dad that you’re asking a boy to the dance?”

Youngjae stops. He grips the paper in his hand until it’s so crinkled he might have to rewrite it. Jaebeom gets flustered, reaching for the chocolate syrup and drowning Youngjae’s sundae in it. They’re outside on the back porch, keeping an eye on their dog while mom and dad grocery shop.

“Youngjae… listen… I don’t know how they’re gonna take it. I want you to be proud and unashamed of who you are, but, I also want you to be safe.”

“Mom and dad….” Youngjae stabs at the ice cream with his spoon. “They wouldn’t do that…”

“I don’t know what they would do.” Jaebeom amends, brow knitting with worry.

* * *

Youngjae decides to lie to his parents. He tells his parents he’s going alone. He’ll figure out the details with Mark, later.

With his heart in his throat, bared open and alive, soul spilled over the ink in his confession letter, Youngjae walks up to Mark at his locker two weeks before Homecoming. The rainbow banner arcs like a promise behind his head.

“Jae, what’s up?” Mark always smiles at him. That smiles wins him _Most Likely to Captivate You With Their Smile_ in the yearbook’s superlatives.

Youngjae’s knees shake, about to buckle. “Can I ask you something?”

 _Out_. Can I ask you _out_.

Mark nods, purses his lips cutely. Youngjae’s heart stutters. He’s only fifteen, he’s never been kissed. But he’s heard the rumors of Mark kissing girls on the trails and he’s a little jealous, but mostly curious. Very curious. His gaze lingers.

“The Spring Homecoming… dance.”

Mark slides a textbook into his backpack, smiling again. “I’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Uh?” Youngjae pinches his letter between his fingers. His body runs cold, then hot, then he just feels unpleasant. “Huh?”

“Gabi asked me to go with her.”

Youngjae’s heart sucks into a black hole.

Three weeks later, the school year’s over.

Four weeks later, Jaebeom and Mark graduate.

Mark works over the summer, doesn’t stop by much, but when he does, he pops his head into Youngjae’s room and smiles, waves, asks how he’s doing, and slips away like sand through Youngjae’s fingers, free in the wind.

When he goes off to college, he’s truly gone. And Youngjae starts junior year with some freshman from Thailand at Mark’s old locker, and Jaebeom’s six hours away in another state, and he realizes, then, something that should’ve been obvious months ago.

Mark Tuan: Youngjae’s first love.

* * *

**Present Day**

Youngjae throws a long, tan coat over his outfit and cuffs his jeans. Jaebeom calls them the _gay ankles_. Youngjae rolls his eyes.

They had wanted to be out the door twenty minutes ago, they have a two and a half hour drive ahead of them to get back to their old hometown, but their mom had to take a thousand and one photos, but in half of the shots one of them is blinking, so she had to take more. And Jaebeom’s fretting about leaving his son with their mom while she pushes him out the door, insisting she took care of him and Youngjae growing up, she’s raised terrors, she’ll be fine with two year old Minjoon. Youngjae kisses the baby’s little fists and gets one last bubbly giggle out of him before they head out.

“You two have fun!” Their mom calls, waving from the front porch.

It’s the ten year high school reunion for Jaebeom’s graduating class, and because his wife is away to Chicago for work, Jaebeom decided Youngjae was the next best choice as his plus one.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Youngjae stares up at the grey sky. They left in the early afternoon to beat traffic. The reunion doesn’t start until six, but the hotel is booked and ready for them.

“All of my friends were your friends.” Jaebeom says, scrolling through radio stations. “It was annoying as fuck.”

“I looked up to you.” Youngjae mumbles, pressing his face against the window. “Even though you were fucking lame.”

Jaebeom reaches over and nearly dislocated Youngjae’s knee with his thumb and middle finger.

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.” Youngjae slaps his brother’s hand away, “We’re sleeping in the same room, there’s no escaping.” He sulks even after Jaebeom buys him a latte for the drive.

“Remember Jackson Wang?”

“You mean, do I remember _one_ of your _two_ friends? Yes. I do.”

Jaebeom reaches over to strangle him with one hand. Youngjae gets him to cease by threatening to spill Starbucks all over his heated leather seats.

“The one that better sleep with one eye open is you.” Jaebum says pointedly, “At least I _had_ friends.”

“Quality over quantity.” Youngjae remarks, pulling out his phone. “I’m telling Bambam I’m texting him every hour on the hour so he knows I’m still alive. I don’t trust you.”

“I’ll just steal your phone and text him as you.”

“You don’t know my passcode.” Youngjae waves his locked phone screen in Jaebeom’s face. “Honestly, though, hyung, who brings their little brother to their high school reunion? That’s so lame.”

“ _I_ ,” Jaebeom puts a lot of emphasis on the word, even presses a hand to his chest. “think it’d be cool.” Then he swats at Youngjae. “Google Jackson Wang.”

“What? Why?”

“Just. Google him. Apparently he went back to China after college and he’s a host now. He has his own late night show.”

“He what?” Youngjae frowns, doesn’t even bother to Google it because it sounds so ridiculous.

“He’s, like, the Steven Colbert of China. I’m so serious. Google him.”

Turns out Jackson’s not the Steven Colbert of China, but he’s… something. Has his own Wikipedia page, his own fan accounts, a verified Twitter and something called a weibo. Youngjae scrolls through photos of Jackson in suits more expensive than his car, standing on stage, holding a mic, standing next to a fucking wax figure of himself. In all the photos, Youngjae sees Jackson Wang, the Cross Country boy, but a shaped, harder version of him. When he watches a clip of Jackson standing in front of a thousand flashing lights, a reporter with a bedazzled mic held up to his lips, he recognizes the smile, the shape of Jackson’s crescent eyes, and he remembers that exact laughter, and what it sounded like fluttering down the hallways of the house in the summers.

* * *

Youngjae freshens up in the hotel bathroom, Jaebeom hovering, stunned staring at the bare minimum make-up products. He may be painfully straight, but Youngjae appreciates that he supports and doesn’t question most habits.

“What lipstick are you using?” Jaebeom asks, picking up Youngjae’s eyebrow pencil but looking at his tinted lips. “Does it last? Jimin can’t find one that lasts all day.”

“This is just a lip tint, I’ll have to reapply it in a few hours.” Youngjae caps the tube and pops his lips, satisfied with the petal-pink gloss.

“It’s pretty.” Jaebeom approves, then pulls out his phone to take a photo of the tube, brand facing up. “I’m telling Jimin about this.”

Youngjae just smiles at him. “Tell her it’s the summer rose color.”

Jaebeom furiously texts his wife.

Downstairs, one of the halls has been set up with round tables, and there are people already loitering. Youngjae scans the scattered faces; some he recognizes, but can’t place a name to the face. Some people he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. One of the dudes he has a horrible memory of, one of them throwing up in the middle of the hallway Youngjae’s freshman year. He doesn’t understand why he has that very specific person tied to that very specific memory, but decides it best not to mention it.

As expected, some people look confused when Jaebeom introduces his brother as his plus one. Most people have a significant other. Or a wife. Or a husband. A handful are alone. They scramble to look at Jaebeom’s hand, and seem even more puzzled by the wedding band.

So he goes around to everyone introducing Youngjae, explaining his wife’s a business woman away for a seminar, he’s also a business man, went for Finance, _blah blah blah_. He has a house in White Plains, _blah blah blah._ He has a son, he and his wife are expecting a second, the typical adult nonsense. Youngjae spaces the fuck out. He can’t believe he’s wasting PTO for this weekend.

Youngjae spots a too familiar face from across the room. His senses awaken suddenly, and he makes eye contact with Mark Tuan.

It doesn’t even take a second for recognition to flash over Mark’s face, and he’s crossing the room.

Youngjae can’t believe how stupid he is, how stunned he is over how handsome Mark is. Mark’s always been handsome, rudely so, but he’s grown and matured and it makes Youngjae’s heart stutter a little like how it did in high school.

Mark comes dressed as expensive as he always has; a suit, fine and sleek and black, with a beautiful burgundy shirt, a gold watch around his wrist and diamonds dangling prettily from his ears. He’s blond. He has an undercut. Youngjae can't believe how _gay_ he is.

“Yo!” Mark throws his arms out, then visibly shocks when Youngjae steps closer. “What?! You’re taller than me?!” Taller, thicker. One of Youngjae’s proudest accomplishments was the healthy weight gain after college. He knows his ass looks good in these jeans but he’s wearing a coat that covers that but it’s a part of the outfit so he doesn’t want to give it up.

Youngjae swoops in, nearly coos at how Mark has to angle his chin up to hook it over his shoulder. “Hi, Mark.”

“You’re _really_ JB’s plus one? Not his wife? I thought he was joking...”

“Jimin's away for work, so I’m here.” Youngjae can’t help it when he— “Where’s your wife?”

Mark laughs a little. His mouth is still so pretty. His smile is still _Most Likely to Captivate You With Their Smile_ worthy. “Single, unfortunately.”

* * *

Jackson walks in, fashionably late by a whole hour. It’s so weird to see him in the flesh when a few hours ago he’d been a celebrity on Youngjae’s cell phone screen. Jackson comes over and gives them all tight hugs, sincere and warm and so fully Jackson. But he pauses when he speaks. He used to be so unfiltered, so unafraid, had once upon a time walked into school wearing a skirt, and got into a fight with a bully, and made the teachers laugh. He’s still amicable, but has an image to uphold.

He brushes off his accomplishments, doesn’t make a big deal about it, and as he makes his rounds, Youngjae wonders if he even mentions that he’s a celebrity in another country.

“What have you been up to?” Mark asks, pulling Youngjae’s attention back. They’ve found a table, and a few other people that Youngjae barely recognize are talking about work and spouses and kids. Mark had been a part of the conversation, but must’ve gotten tired of it since he doesn’t have a spouse or kids, just a dog.

“I’m a theater manager.” Youngjae spent eight years at the same job, pursuing a degree directly related to where he got experience. It doesn’t make the best money, but he’s lucky enough to say he’s doing something he loves, and he can afford a decent apartment in Brooklyn with his friend Bambam. “I teach piano and do vocal lessons as a side job.”

Mark presses the tip of his beer bottle to his lips. “I don’t know what a theater manager does.”

Youngjae brushes over his daily tasks, not wanting to chat Mark’s ear off. “What are you doing?”

“I’m an eighth grade science teacher.”

The Mark Tuan that Youngjae has in his head is the Mark Tuan from high school, so he tries not to let his biased feelings of adoration from back then dictate how he feels about Mark now. It’s been ten years. They’re both grown, have been chipped away at by life and changed and morphed into different people. The Mark that Youngjae loved is gone, he has to relearn this new one.

He doesn’t expect to spend most of the night doing it, though.

They end up talking about their jobs, mostly, sharing stories and laughing over co-workers and projects gone wrong. They talk about where they live, Mark, in Williamsburg, Youngjae in Bushwick, which isn’t that bad, they could take the M and meet up. Youngjae can’t believe they’re already at this point, already talking about meeting up for coffee after tonight.

The conversation never dries up, even over such a mundane topic. Youngjae knew he’d end up talking about work tonight, but didn’t realize he’d enjoy talking about it. Mark’s loosened up the past decade. Confidence and maturity look good on him, makes him glow. They work on erasing the years between them.

Youngjae knows his old attraction to Mark still looms, somewhere in the foggy distance, and knows that a new type of attraction takes place right now. It feels nice to connect in the moment like this. He’s missed Mark, and there’s a teeny, teenager-y part of him that wants his senior to say he’s proud of him.

“There was one thing I vividly remember from high school, but never got to ask.” Mark leans back in his chair, slim fingers wrapped around his fourth beer. “Why didn’t you go to Spring Homecoming?”

Youngjae’s on his fourth beer, too. “I stayed home to sulk and drown in self pity because my crush couldn’t go with me.”

Mark sips his drink. “Really? Who turned you down?”

“You.” Youngjae watches droplets glide down the side of the bottle. He glances in Jaebeom’s direction. Thankfully, he isn’t paying attention. Jackson’s at the table now, they’re catching up.

“I did?” Mark looks surprised, then, belatedly, “I was your crush? You had a crush? You _what_?”

“Yep,” Youngjae pops the ‘p’. “Had a big ol’ crush on you.”

“Oh.” Mark scratches at his nose. Youngjae guesses it must be a nervous gesture. “I had no idea.”

Seeing the shy reaction instead of a disgusted one, Youngjae decides it’s okay that he can say this. “My entire sophomore year. Jaebeom used to tease the fuck out of me for it.”

“He knew?”

“Yeah.” Youngjae tries to read for any signs of disgust on Mark’s face. Instead, he’s bright red, eyebrows arched.

“I don’t remember you asking me.”

“Well, I was going to. But then you said Gabi had asked you. and my little angtsy teen heart couldn’t handle it. I was devastated.” Gabriela Hernandez. Youngjae remembers her. Youngjae _hated_ her.

Mark chuckles, rubs at his face and sighs. “Funny. If you had asked, I would’ve said yes.”

Did he just— Did the words that Youngjae thinks he heard really come out of Mark’s mouth? Is it the alcohol?

“You what?”

Mark chugs the rest of his beer. Stands. Youngjae’s entire face heats up when he realizes Jackson and Jaebeom are staring at them. He nearly passes out when Mark extends his hand.

“Can I get my Homecoming dance?”

Youngjae panics a little, a little voice in his head telling him this can’t be true. “C’mon, Mark. Sit down. What are you saying?” His hand reaches up but he grabs for Mark’s elbow, giving him a small tug. “Please, can you sit?”

Still unwavering, Mark asks, a little louder, “Can I have my Homecoming dance?”

Jackson gasps. “Damn, Mark, that’s _smooth_.”

“What?” Jaebeom looks pretty helpless. “What’s happening?”

“Are you… Serious?“ but Mark reaches for Youngjae's hand, unobtrusive, fingers gentle around his wrist. When he pulls, Youngjae goes.

Fifteen year old him is screaming, twenty-five year old him is trying to be logical. But Mark leads him to the dance floor, where a few couples and groups of old friends laugh and dance together, and takes him by the waist. Mark wraps both arms around Youngjae’s shoulders, steps to the music with a goofy smile, and Youngjae eases into it, drapes his arms around Mark’s thin waist.

“You liked me in high school?” Mark wears a smile that’s changed so much; it’s brighter, happier. His eyes shine like he already knows the answer to the question and is just looking for vindication. Youngjae loves it.

“It was gross. I was so gross.”

Mark nearly trips on his own two feet, laughing and pulling Youngjae a little closer. High School him wouldn’t of been able to handle this closeness with Mark. He’s barely handling it now.

“I hadn’t totally figured out my sexuality then, but I knew I felt something for you. If you had asked me, I would’ve dumped Gabi.”

“That’s awful of you.” Youngjae grins, though. That made him feel kinda good. “Maybe it’s better you didn’t figure out the sexuality thing in high school, I was…” He doesn’t want to say ugly, but. “An awkward teenager.”

Mark laughs, it’s a little high, just like it used to be. It makes Youngjae remember school football games; of the beach during spring vacation. “I think that’s what I thought was so cute.”

They spin a little, and Mark leans in the rest his chin against Youngjae’s shoulder. “You’ve grown up to be so handsome.” Mark takes a second to pause, wherein Youngjae tries to aggressively avoid eye contact with his brother, who’s half climbing over a table to try and make eye contact with him and give him a sleazy and obnoxious grin, “Which sounds kinda creepy.”

It’s so stupid how Youngjae laughs at everything Mark says. “I get it.”

“When JB told me he was bringing you as his plus one I didn't really believe it, but at the same time I think that was when I really started looking forward to this. Not because of my crush, really, but because we fell out and I really considered you a friend. Didn’t realize how much I missed you until then.”

Youngjae slides his hand to Mark’s middle, lower back. He knows Jaebeom and Mark follow each other on Instagram, knows they speak rarely through dms, but don’t have much of a relationship like that, anymore. It’s mostly about nostalgia. “I think about you sometimes, too. Not in a weird way, just, like, you were really fun and I hoped things turned out well for you.”

The music switches into something with a little more jump in it, and Youngjae avoids eye contact with a footballer that used to give Jaebum shit for having a manbun (before they were popular.)

“Wanna leave?”

Youngjae has to shove down dirty thoughts. “Huh?”

Mark pulls away to look up at him. “Honestly, I only care about Jackson and Jaebum. Fuck literally everyone else in my class.” Youngjae laughs at that. Yeah, being the only group of Asian kids, he understands. “The four of us, let’s go get food.”

“Yeah.” Youngjae grins, lettings his hands fall from Mark’s waist. For a second, Mark’s arms stay hanging around his neck, keeping them close, keeping them only a breath apart.

Mark’s still so stunning, and Youngjae’s old memories of a first love resurface.

But he turns around. They break apart, and gesture for their friends. Youngjae says, “Let’s get out of this hell hole,” In Korean. Judging by the way Jackson perks up, Mark must’ve said the same thing in Mandarin, too.

* * *

They find a 24-hour diner within a ten-mile radius and get a corner booth. The reconnecting happens over shared disco fries, milkshakes and burgers piled with too many pickles.

It doesn’t matter the worlds between them; how not a single one of them are the same person they were in high school, they ease so seamlessly into the night. Jaebum’s still a dork that can make fun of his scene days, Mark admits he relied on his parents' money for kids to think he was cool, Jackson admits to self-doubts, and Youngjae admits to to his drama queen tantrums. And while they can laugh at the good memories they can remember the bad ones, too, talking about how they’ve healed, admitting to points in their lives where they were lost and unsure. They share how they got here. For hours, through the end of their waitresses' shift, and way past when they’d normally go to bed.

As they settle into the night, as Youngjae knocks his feet against Mark’s a few too many times, or maybe lets his hand sweep down Mark’s arm, or sits sideways in the bench so he can press his thigh to Mark’s he realizes, yeah, they’ve grown up in a lot of ways.

And he still has a crush.

Mark has his own hotel room, and mentions it as he and Youngjae hang back from the other two, as his fingers glide across Youngjae’s hips. His way of acknowledging the invite is to make eye contact with Jaebum in the elevator as they reach their floor, but not follow him out.

Jackson shoots them a sly smile when they step out together, Youngjae’s hands lingering on Mark’s shoulders.

Except when they get to the door of Mark’s hotel room, Youngjae stops. He stands in the doorway and gathers his thoughts, and the feelings of tonight, how he’s glittery like the night sky.

“Can I take you on a date?”

Mark pauses, hovers a little, expecting Youngjae to come into his room. “Like… now…?”

Youngjae isn’t sure about the reaction, if it’s good or bad, he’s still gauging, so he says, “I wasn’t thinking that. I was thinking dinner in Manhattan, maybe we could go to Chelsea Market.”

“Oh,” Mark softens and relaxes a little. “Yeah, that’d be nice. When?”

“Friday?”

“Yeah, I’m free.” Mark wears an expression that Youngjae thinks he might understand; that Mark hadn’t been expecting sincerity, that he expected Youngjae to chase the end of whatever tension has been blooming, but is satisfied and hopeful with how it’s playing out.

Youngjae really wants to kiss him, though, and sways a little, glances at Mark’s lips.

“For now, though,” Mark catches the look with a smile. “Do you wanna come in? For tea?” He puts his hands up in the air. “Honestly just for some tea?”

Youngjae laughs and enters, closes the door behind him and they fiddle with the coffee maker to get some hot water and pour themselves tea. They sit on the bed, and talk more, damn, Youngjae didn’t know how much he could just _talk_ , and how much he’d enjoy just doing that, sipping on tea, until it gets too late and the night creeps up on him and sleep whispers in his ear and the tea seeps into his system.

He leaves to go back to his hotel room, and Mark leaves him with a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“I really can’t wait for Friday.”

“Me neither.” Youngjae curls his finger under Mark’s chin and angles him up, leaning forward to place a chamomile-soft kiss against his lips. 

Mark Tuan: out to steal Youngjae’s heart a second time.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been just sitting around for months because it feels so????? plot-less???? but it's cute and i enjoyed writing it so i decided to release the fluff in case anyone wanted it


End file.
